Mycake: Crack fic
by Kiro Angel
Summary: Lestrade finds out about the embarrassing actions of a drunken Mycroft. Pure crack, I don't even know where I come up with this stuff. Also, it actually has nothing to do with Mycroft's romance with cake. T because kissing and drunkenness and I'm paranoid. Mystrade, established.


AN: So I don't know how this popped into my mind but it did. Here you go, a thoroughly crack fic that I decided must be shared with the world. Rated T because alcohol and kissing and I'm paranoid.

I must say that no, I do not own Sherlock or its characters, no matter how much I might wish to. Also, the original song is Milkshake by Kelis and can be listened to on Youtube here: watch?v=bFDqW0Nfo2k

Also, Mycroft, if you're out there somewhere, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

~Kiro

* * *

"Oh, come on, you must have some embarrassing facts about yourself, My." Gregory grinned at his partner witting next to him in the car, riding home after a trip to the theater to see Frankenstein. Mycroft's assistant sat across from them, tapping on her phone as always.

Mycroft let out a soft laugh at his partner. "I might, but you will not learn of any." At this, his assistant, "Anthea" tonight, looked up from her phone and smiled, quickly going back to typing.

"Mycake," The word fell teasingly from her lips, causing her boss to go very pale very quickly.

"Anthea," His voice was deathly cold and threatening, "I will dock your pay and you will never see another sick day. I will transfer you to the department of transportation and you will be picking up trash in the tube for the rest of your days," his voice grew lower and lower in threat.

"Sir." Her voice was now quite hard and skeptical of his empty threats. "I think you should show him, don't you, Gregory?"

Greg, who was now quite confused but certain that he had found something juicy about his boyfriend, nodded with a grin. "Yeah, My. Why don't you show me?"

Mycroft sent a death glare over in Anthea's direction and pulled out his phone, scrolling through it to find the correct thing. "Here, I can't watch. Just look and forget it and we will never speak of it again." He thrust the phone in Greg's direction and turned away.

Curious, Greg looked down at the phone, which had a video with a freeze frame of Mycroft without a suit jacket and his waistcoat half off, clutching a microphone. It was, surprisingly enough, dated to six months ago, the day after the two had started dating. Raising an eyebrow, Greg glanced at his now thoroughly-red boyfriend and pressed play.

The noise of a bar filtered through the speakers as the mini-Mycroft on screen swung his hips to a familiar raucous tune.

Mycake brings all the boys from the Yard,  
And they're like  
It's better than yours,  
Damn right it's better than yours,  
I can teach you,  
But they would charge

Gregory's eyebrows were now hidden in his hairline, an enormous grin splitting his face as he tried to hold in his laughter. At the beginning of the next line, Mycroft ripped off his waistcoat and swung it over his head into the bar, making a few of the more intoxicated patrons squeal.

I know you want it,  
The thing that makes me,  
What the guys go crazy for.  
They lose their minds,  
The way I wind,  
I think its time

The drunken Mycroft on screen swung his hips erratically to the beat, clinging to his microphone. Greg gave up on not laughing and started into an enormous belt of laughter he was certain could be heard across London.

La la-la la la,  
Warm it up.  
Lala-lalala,  
The boys are waiting

By this time, Greg was laughing uncontrollably, rolling around the car and attempting to clutch a resistant Mycroft to his chest.

La la-la la la,  
Warm it up.  
Lala-lalala,  
The boys are waiting

Mini-Mycroft was now shaking his ass in the air quite entertainingly, attempting to do a stumbling spin at the next line, slurring his words.

Mycake brings all the boys from the Yard,  
And they're like  
It's better than yours,  
Damn right it's better than yours,  
I can teach you,  
But my boy would charge

Greg paused the phone and threw it into Mycroft's lap, laughing impossibly hard and shaking the entire car with his braying. Finally, after another two minutes or so, he had his breathing under control and was no longer laughing.

"Wow, My, just… Wow. I had to stop because," he let out a small laugh, "because otherwise I would have died of oxygen deprivation. Let me tell you, though, you are one sexy beast with a microphone."

At this Mycroft looked greatly affronted, raising his eyebrows at Greg before turning away.

"It was the day after we officially became a couple. Anthea insisted we celebrate, I had a bit too much to drink, and they had karaoke. I may have... altered the wording a bit, but I refuse to see how it was that hilarious." He sniffed delicately and staring resolutely out the window.

"Oh, come one, My! You are a great singer. That was a truly fantastic display of your amazing dance skills, too," He used a flirtatious tone and leaned into Mycroft. "Maybe you could do a little demonstration of your skills for me some time, My?"

Mycroft blushed heavily at this and, raising an eyebrow, was just about to reply when he was stopped by a ferocious kiss.

Ignoring Anthea's pained groans, they made out in the back seat for the rest of the way home.


End file.
